


Razors to the wounded heart

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, Cutting, Demon Sex, Dominance, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Sado-Masochism, Submission, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The raw, open wounds on his shoulder blades were the only flaw that marred his perfect skin, and she loved those as a sign of his devotion to her, of the bond they shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Razors to the wounded heart

Phedre loved to watch her husband undress. The strong, supple lines of his true form still aroused her beyond reason, as much as it had when she first found him. The raw, open wounds on his shoulder blades were the only flaw that marred his perfect skin, and she loved those as a sign of his devotion to her, of the bond they shared. She sat in bed, waiting for him, naked, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders.

"What's it to be tonight?" he asked her as he turned to face her. The red light in his eyes was accentuated by the glow of the fire. His cock was hard already, as much a tribute to his demonic nature as her beauty. Earric's cock could stiffen at a moment's notice, and stay that way, as far as she could tell, indefinitely. She had never known him to tire before she did, which was one of the other things she loved about him. Phedre smiled, and beckoned him closer.

"I want you to start with your mouth and your hands," she instructed him, "and then perhaps, if you've done well, we'll get out some of the toys."

Earric pouted a little - he liked the toys very much - but nodded. "Whatever you wish, of course." Without further warning he gripped her by the shoulders, tight enough to bruise, then ran his hands down to her breasts, twisting her nipples until she gasped. He smiled wickedly and flipped her face down on the mattress. He was strong enough to move her where he wanted her without undue effort on his part, and she allowed him to do so. The pressure of his hands told her to lift her arse, giving him room to roughly shove two fingers deep into her waiting pussy. She was already wet, but the suddenness of the violation was still enough to make her wince. She turned her head, trying to see him, but he was out of view behind her. She could feel his fingers inside her, and hear his low, teasing laugh, but that was all.

He saw that she was trying to turn and took a firm grip on her hair, yanking it back to hold her in place, arse high and back bowed. Her eyes watered with the pain of it, and she squirmed back against him, demanding more. Even from the start, he had been able to read her signals as well as any skilfull lover could, but after so long together, it was like he could read her mind. Perhaps, at least a little, he could. Perhaps he felt her need for stronger sensation like an ache in his own body, and assuaged her desires in order to feed his own too. In the moment, she didn't care why he gave her precisely what she needed, only that he did it.

Her first husband, Rodrigo, had known of her preferences, and had done what he could to satisfy her, giving her rough, vigorous, sex, occasionally punctuated with a pinch or a slap on the backside, but it was never enough. He had been too afraid of hurting her, too anxious that she not be left marked afterwards, to truly satisfy her. Earric had no such compunctions, and under his guidance her perverse desires had only been heightened, as he drove her to more extreme sensations than she had ever savoured before.

He withdrew his fingers from her - they were, after all, only a prelude to something greater. She shut her eyes to focus all her attention on the feeling of his cock sliding against her, its shaft thick enough to make her whimper. He could easily alter the form of his human façade, make himself larger or smaller to suit the taste of his partner of the moment, but with her, his beloved wife, he gave her the real thing, undisguised and glorious. Phedre's breath caught in her throat as he thrust sharply into her, permitting her no mercy. She could feel his body curled over hers, coiled like a predator ready to pounce, and arched her back up towards him. His teeth closed on her shoulder, sharp like daggers, and she cried out. When she made such sounds with Rodrigo, he would draw back, stop what he was doing, ask her if she was all right.

Earric bit down harder.

The doubled pleasures of the cock pounding relentlessly into her and the fangs buried in the meat of her shoulder drove her wild, but she still wanted more. "Do it," she gasped, controlling him even as she writhed with a mix of pain and pleasure. She craved the sensation that only he had ever been able to give her. His laugh against her ear as he released her from his bite sent chills up her spine, but he still made her wait just long enough that she wondered if she would have to command him more strongly before he unleashed his flood of agony upon her.

The feeling was, as always, incredible - a searing pain that surged through her body in waves, shattering her remaining composure, competing with the continued pleasure that his cock brought her. First one overwhelmed her, then the other. To compound the confusion of her senses, Earric wrapped his arm around her hip to tease her clit at the same time. Phedre screamed and struggled beneath him, unable to maintain her control through his onslaught. She could not have pinpointed the moment when her agony turned into orgasm, a rapturous burst that released her from all pain, all thought.

As she lay panting on the bed, she felt him move off her, graceful as always. "Did I do well?" he asked, in that slightly mocking tone that meant he was angling for further play.

"You did well enough," she told him, as sternly as she was able given her current state. "As your reward, you may use the razor."

There was a long silence from Earric. "Your razor?" For once, he sounded uncertain.

"Yes. Fetch it at once, before I change my mind."

Earric did as he was bidden, bringing the folded blade to the bed. He held it gingerly, and with good reason - no doubt he could well recall the pain it had inflicted on him. "Open it," Phedre ordered, turning over to watch. He slid the blade out, so that the firelight glinted off its surface.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked, looking down at her.

"What you wish," she replied. She knew how foolish her actions would seem to others, but she trusted her demon lover and knew he would never do her more harm that she was able to bear.

Earric's fist clenched around the razor's handle, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he pushed aside the pendant she always wore and lowered the tip of the blade to the point where it normally lay, between her breasts, letting it rest lightly there. Even with very little pressure, a ruby beaded at the blade's tip, so sharp was it. Phedre held her breath, still trembling slightly from her recent release. Earric's eyes met hers as he slid the razor down her body in a single smooth stroke. For a moment, she felt nothing. The blood had begun to seep out of the wound and roll like a scarlet sheet across her ribs before she felt the pain of it, but then it made her gasp. She shut her eyes, trying to imagine what it must have felt like for him. This was nothing, she told herself, nothing compared to what he had gone through at her hands...

Earric opened another long line of red beside the first, and then a third, deeper than either of the previous two. Phedre bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood there as well. He lifted the blade then, and she thought he might set it aside, but instead he brought it up to her throat. She remained perfectly still, holding his gaze, knowing that he could open her jugular in an instant and she would not be fast enough to stop him, that he might want to kill her for everything she had taken from him and that, in some way, she would deserve it, even welcome her end if that was his desire. She also knew, though, at a level deeper than thought, that he would never do it, that his love for her outweighed his anger at his loss. In that moment of precarious balance and budding trust, they understood one another perfectly. A heartbeat later, Earric dropped the razor to the floor with a clatter and curled up beside her, his hands wet with her blood and his face wet with what she thought might have been tears.

Phedre held him close, stroking his hair. She took a moment to pray for the Serpent to heal her wounds, and, laying a hand on her breast, felt them close seamlessly. The red blossoms drying on the sheets and on their skin were the only sign remaining to show what blessings they had granted one another that night.


End file.
